Imagine the prairies, painted in a vibrant palette of names. Every name is an adjective that describes the place for what is really there, or what it actually is. It’s a hill, a waterhole, or a warning. It's an element in the landscape that deserves our attention. And the hundreds of names converge into a collective memory that is fast disappearing. In this painting, the landscape begins to resemble a sort of constellation. The names weave an image of a larger, more complex place.
Today, these names have been long forgotten from a cultural conscience. We’ve blanketed the vast reaches of prairie land under a single, homogeneous naming system. Under the survey, every 160 acres, or quarter-section, is given an equal weight. The landscape is no longer understood for its collection of natural elements, but instead for its ability to be smoothed into a constant purpose. We now value the landscape for acres, for section after section of unfaltering land that can be harvested with increasing efficiency. Protrusions and disruptions, though they unconsciously captivate our impression of a place, no longer define it.
Consider that names hold more than sentimental or ritual value. They form a deep collective understanding of the landscape. And by cloaking these names in a generic grid, we’ve made a profound inversion to our perception of the place.
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